


The Redhead and the Sphinx

by BennettLelacques01



Category: Promethean: The Created
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-06 09:28:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20289223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BennettLelacques01/pseuds/BennettLelacques01
Summary: After rendering Max unconscious by means of mind-blowing orgasm, Lynette tells him her story. In truth, she is at least thirty years older than she has told him, but most of those years were spent existing as 'Kaleide', a woman sewn together from the ripped-apart corpse of another woman and brought to a semblance of life.





	The Redhead and the Sphinx

"The Redhead and the Sphinx"  
Part 03  
Version 01

Lynette nestled against Max, the cooling sweat on her skin slick against his. She gave a little wiggle of her butt and smiled as the warm softness of his penis settled into position in the split like the two had been crafted together, the bare tip of his glans against the fuzz and stubble on her perineum. The smooth rise and fall of Max's chest pushing on her back and then relaxing felt like a gentle massage. One of his arms curled over her hip, that hand pressed to her navel. The other went under her side, a hot slab of meat against her skin.  
She considered Max's free hand in the dim light of the room. A working man's hands, even now. The skin softening lotions she rubbed into them once every other day slowly melting the callouses. Getting Max to let go of his pride in those sandpapery paws of his took a little work and a lot of patience, though touching the emery board to his erection had definitely helped drive the lesson home.  
"That's what that feels like on your circumcised glans, Max. You've had most of your life to get numbed to stimulation down there, but you can still feel. Now imagine that going inside me, but I can still feel everything. I want you to touch me, with your fingers as well as your tongue and lips, but until those fingers start getting a lot softer I'm going to have to do without."  
She reached out, taking Max's hand laying across the sheet. Bending the arm at the elbow brought the forearm up across her breasts; she adjusted her breasts with her other hand so that the nipples lined up, and pressed his forearm against them. His hand twitched, then rested on her upper arm.  
She brought her right hand down to cover Max's on her navel, lacing her fingers with his. Her left arm lay free.  
"She was born in Chicago," Lynette began. Her tone stayed casual, her pacing even, as if she spoke about an unremarkable week at school. "Almost nine months to the day after her parents made it to Ellis Island. Bridget Liberty MacDonnel-Fitzhugh. July Seventeenth, 1940. Third child born to Malcolm Bruce MacDonnel and Eileen Fitzhugh, but the first to survive past infancy. I think that they believed that the fairies of America were happier with them than the ones back in Ireland were. Bridget had three brothers and two sisters by the time she was eight years old. All six of them were alive by the time Bridget hit her twentieth birthday in 1960."  
Lynette paused for breath, and bunched up the pillow under her neck. She looked out at the bedside table, taking in the three books in the 'to be read' pile, the little gooseneck lamp, and the capped bottle of water. The clear space where the towel had been.  
"All Hallow's Eve, 1960," Lynette went on. Her voice flattened, the tone fading. "Witnesses reported that Bridget had been at a party at a bar called Leeson's, five blocks south and eight east from her family's apartment. Her fiancee, Henry Walton Langley, used the Leeson's phone to call a cab for the two of them. Witnesses inside the bar confirmed that Bridget went outside to wait for the cab on the curb while Henry was on the phone. Witnesses outside the bar noticed 'the redheaded woman' standing alone, but none of them could give the same story about exactly when or how she disappeared."  
Lynette waved her free hand. "It was quite the mystery at the time. The fiancee had a roomful of witnesses, of course, as did her parents and her siblings, who were all at their own parties. Had she just run away? The police couldn't find anything in her diary about being unhappy, or any other clues." She smiled, eyes focused somewhere beyond the far wall of her bedroom. "No one ever found a body."  
She let out a breath through her nose as she smiled, an almost soundless laugh. "It's not as uncommon as you'd think, even now. Chicago's on the coast of Lake Erie, which is almost as good as a full-fledged ocean when it comes to gettind rid of bodies. So after about a year of searching... and remember that this was still back in the 1960s, with horrible news on the war in Vietnam, as well as the first moon landing still in the future. Her parents searched, her siblings kept her memory alive, but they just had to move on after about a year of no results."  
Lynette stopped talking again, paying attention to the rhythm of Max's breathing and the tension in his arms. No change to any of it. She shook her head a little, glancing over her shoulder to make sure he was still asleep.  
"Bridget really died that night, it turns out. I obviously can't remember any of it, because I wasn't there yet. What I can tell you is that she made a mistake. The block where Leeson's used to be got gentrified back in the 1980s, but on the night she died, the bar had a service alley running behind it, and a condemned building on the opposite side from Leeson's."  
Lynette bit her lip and looked over her shoulder at Max again. "By the Gods, Max, how I wish I could tell you all of this while you were still awake. It's one of the last few secrets I need to keep from you, and I absolutely hate that." She put her left hand over Max's on her belly, and reached up to stroke his cheek with her right. "I want you... and Joey... to be the men I tell all of this to. Or Julie, as the woman." She bit her lip, visualizing the scene first one way, then the other. "In fact, that might even be better. But I have to say this all first... just to practice. A little bit. And to enjoy you like this just one more time."  
She brought her hand away from Max's face. Then, she let her arms follow the path that Max led, curling around herself as his arms did. "I just want to have one last night where I'm just a woman, and you're just a man, before I risk ruining it all by telling you how much more there is to me."

**Author's Note:**

> This story seems to ramble a bit, reflecting the fact that Lynette still has psychological baggage from her Promethean "Pilgrimage" that carried her from 'sentient more-than-a-zombie' to fully human, and that she has a legitimate fear of losing Max from him thinking her insane.  
But mostly it's because I'm "pantsing" the whole thing, and this is a VERY rough first draft. I'm posting it mostly to get some feedback on ideas ranging from character details to plot development and everything in between.  
Hint, hint.


End file.
